


Of Clarinets and Pyramids

by fatedfeathers



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cheerleading and Band Member, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hamilton Gift Exchange 2k16, M/M, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8733760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatedfeathers/pseuds/fatedfeathers
Summary: When the cheerlearers were allowed to throw shirts at football games, no one expected this.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmiimmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmiimmeme/gifts).



> Jefferson is genderfluid and uses he/they/she pronouns.

The thing about the cheerleaders, James was pretty sure, was that they were only allowed to throw school shirts into the crowd if they _avoided_ the band’s section of the stands. And for the most part, they had been good about not throwing shirts into the band section (except that one time the first year the school gave the squad permission to throw the shirts and, somehow, one had managed to land perfectly inside a trumpet’s bell). So the confusion, and if he’s honest, annoyance, James bears towards the cheer squad throwing shirts comes from the newest member of the squad.

All the cheerleaders knew not to aim at the band kids; so either Thomas Jefferson had the worst aim, or they were throwing shirts at the band on purpose. Knowing Thomas, James honestly couldn’t say with 100% clarity which was the more probable cause. He’d known Thomas since middle school, and while he knew the other could be an ass from time to time, he also knew that they suffered from anxiety and sometimes that could affect how they acted under stress; they could be trying to annoy the band kids, or they could be stressed about the pressures of performing in front of the crowd and their aim affected by the stress.

At this point, James almost assumed that Thomas was doing it to annoy him, because whenever they threw a shirt into the band section, it ended up in the clarinet section. Every time, James shot them a glare, and Thomas responded with either a shit-eating grin or a shy smile.

While James was flipping through his sheet music to get ready for the next song the director had called out, he saw a grey shirt land dangerously close to the band section out of the corner of his eye. He looked down and made eye contact with Thomas, who was holding both of their pompoms in one hand. Their other hand was empty, having just thrown the shirt they were holding. He raised an eyebrow at the cheerleader, who only smirked and shrugged, before laughing and switching one of their poms to their free hand and turning back towards the football field to cheer for the team.

\------

James and Angelica watched what they could of the cheerleaders’ halftime show together with their hearts in their throats, especially during the stunting. Thomas was backing the group Angelica’s youngest sister, Peggy, flew for, and their group was the center of the pyramid. [The routine](https://youtu.be/lZgOk9ualp0) was moderately complicated, and there were plenty of opportunities for another flyer or a member of Peggy’s own group to slip; especially the pop and twist at the end. Although the move was practiced tirelessly, there was always a moment of terror while the youngest Schuyler was in the air that this time might be the time Thomas and her bases didn’t catch Peggy.

They always did, though, and the routine was finished with all three stunts cradling out and Peggy’s front walkover, and James and Angelica let out a sigh of relief.

\------

The next game, James saw Thomas talking animatedly to some of the other cheerleaders. He couldn't hear what the conversation was about, and he was too far away and at the wrong angle to read any of the cheerleaders’ lips, but the group kept gesturing towards the band. James shot a look down to Angelica, wondering if she was seeing what he was seeing.

Sadly, Angelica wasn't on the same wavelength as him, and she didn't turn around to catch his glance. James sighed slightly, then turned back to the cheerleaders. Thomas- _just Thom today,_ he caught himself- Thom was tensing her shoulders defensively, arms crossed over her chest. Every so often, she’d switch her weight from one leg to the other, causing her skirt to swish around her legs. The shift was generally accompanied by a gesture toward the band section or in the air around the squad.

Hercules, built like a linebacker but the best tumbler on the team, lifted his hands, taking half a step back from Thom. Even without words or context, James could read his body language: he was trying to calm Thom down.

James almost wished it wasn't minutes to the start of the game so he could go talk to Thom, help calm her down because it's what he was there for. He had lost count of the times he'd been Thom’s sounding board while she practiced endlessly what she'd say and how she’d say it, and then talk her down when she inevitably wound herself into a bundle of anxiety and nerves.

James was snapped back to reality by a sharp call of _“Madison!”_

He had been so focused on his thoughts that he had managed to miss the director’s call to attention. He hurriedly gathered himself, flipping his music to the right page, apologizing to Washington as he did so. He could hear snickering from the trumpet section, until Washington silenced it with a curt _“Hamilton.”_

\------

The rest of the game passed with no catches; not a single shirt landed near the band.

\------

A few games passed without incident. Not a single shirt landed near the band, and whenever James asked Thomas about it, the other danced around the question like a skittish horse with a new trainer. During games, James couldn't even catch Thomas’s gaze.

“It's almost like they're avoiding me,” he said to Angelica after practice one day. Angelica looked at him, an eyebrow cocked incredulously.

“Thomas Jefferson, the person who is closer to you than anyone else and is constantly worrying about you getting sick and looks at you like you're the center of their world, is avoiding you,” she said flatly. “I don't believe that.”

James shook his head. “Don’t say that,” he said. “That’s not how they look at me.”

“You only say that because you’re not looking when they do.”

\------

It was the last game of the season. Since James had witnessed what he still assumed to be an argument between Thomas and Hercules, the cheerleader hadn’t thrown a single shirt near the band section. He still grinned when he caught James’s eyes, still wore the cheerleading skirt more often than his shorts, still caught Peggy without fail. Unknown to James, he still watched the clarinet player whenever the squad turned around for crowd cheers and dances.

It was the last chance for the cheerleaders to throw the last of their shirts for that year before they had to sell them; they weren’t allowed to throw them for the basketball season. James saw all the cheerleaders start to arm themselves with the gray bundles of fabric, before turning away to make sure his reed was in place properly.

He didn’t notice Thomas exchanging a look with Hercules before grabbing a navy blue shirt. He didn’t notice the cheerleader taking a few steps upfield from the rest of the squad, or taking aim.

He didn’t notice, until he was hit in the chest with a navy blue t-shirt.

He looked up on the impact, fumbling to both catch the shirt and keep from dropping his instrument. Once he was sure both were safe, he looked up, meeting Thomas’s eyes. The cheerleader smiled hesitantly, then gestured for James to unfold the shirt. James stared at Thomas for a moment, then looked down at the shirt before unfolding it.

On the front of the shirt, in black fabric marker, was written: _‘You’ve clari-netted my heart!’_ and on the back was _‘I got a 0.5 point deduction falling for you. Will you go out with me?’_

James looked up at Thomas, eyes wide, but before he could say anything the football team made a touchdown and Washington was calling for them to play the school song and he had to scramble to get his music ready in time to start playing.

He didn’t get a chance until the game ended to approach Thomas. The cheerleader shifted nervously as James approached, fidgeting with his poms.

“Did you mean it?” he asked. Thomas nodded, his confident mask starting to crack and look nervous. James paused for a minute, heart beating fast.

“Yes,” he finally said. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

\------

It took James a week to realize what was wrong with the shirt.

  
“Oh my god, you’re not even a flyer! You can’t get a deduction for falling!”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't play an instrument. I am not in band. I got my band information from my friends. I'm sorry if I'm horribly off-base about how bands work.
> 
> I am, however, a cheerleader. I know quite a bit about the sport.


End file.
